Wednesday, 2 November 2016

Swimming, a steam, hot tub, a treatment and being pampered
in a robe and fluffy slippers. My idea of heaven.

Over the years I've found being in a relaxing environment such
as a spa very much help me with my mental health and give me some much-needed
reflective time alone. I tend to ask for them as gifts for Christmas or
birthdays so, that every year I get at least two days of rest and relaxation.
This year I received one but had to reschedule it three times due to Crohn's
flare ups, surgeries and hospital admissions. Finally, during the end of my
recovery from this surgery, I went.

Let me tell you, my body is different now that I have an
ostomy bag stuck to my belly. I also have a wonderfully pink 5 ½ inch midline scar
and a couple laparoscopic ones on my left side too. But I wanted to be brave
and ‘show off’ my battle wounds. I brought a new bikini – a somewhat impossible
task given it was September – and took the plunge.

This is me:

I am not perfect. I don't think that my body is where I
would like it to be, but look at that scar! It's not all of it, nor is all my
bag on show but those two things remind me I am still here. That I have fought
my disease and came out the other side.

My writing and my words might make it seem like I am
confident and slightly eager to flash my recent surgical scars but I am a shy individual;
hardly every comfortable in her own skin. With my weight gains and losses over
the years as I battled this invisible illness I have; I’ve loved and hated my
body. This disease has given me the typical mooning of my face, the swelling of
my belly, shrinking thighs and loss of my buttocks; I’ve grown accustom to these
over the years, but the scars from someone cutting into me – surgical intervention
- still shock me. If I am truly honest, not wanting those scars was a big
factor in why I always tried all the medications. Why I always put up with the
side effects from them too.

I don’t want surgery or my ileostomy to change what I do or
how I am.

I walked into that changing room, took my clothes off and
put a bikini on. Acted like my scars and bag were not there. If people stared,
let them. I wasn’t looking for their acceptance. I was looking for my own.